Zip My Lips
by whateverbro
Summary: Pretending is like lying. No matter how much you do it, in the end, you just know it's not true.


**Zip My Lips**  
_by simplyme26 _

Stan Marsh and Wendy Testaburger has just broken up- _for real this time, Kyle! Honest!-_ Yes, it seems a hippie quarterback and a feminist valedictorian do not mesh well together, no matter how much they want (or, by the unspoken rules of cliques, are obliged) to. As a result of their totally official break up,- _Yeah, whatever you say, Stan_- Kyle begrudgingly took him to that lame bar his Uncle Jimbo and the rest of the middle-aged population frequented.

Fortunately, it was also hunting season, so the bar was a little deserted. Aside from the few daily customers, the suspiciously dingy man near the restrooms and the overweight and balding bartender, everything seemed normal. Well, as normal as South Park can be.

And by now, Stan has managed to get himself completely wasted.

"Dude, you're drunk." Kyle states firmly, glaring at Stan's drunken posture. He grips at the handle of his still half-empty mug, almost tempted to pour the contents on Stan's head, seeing as he has no intentions of finishing it.

Stan giggles in response. "Psh! No am not." He continues to laugh to himself. He tries to chug down the last remnants of his beer when he realizes that- "Hey. Where'd the beer go?" His hazy blue eyes dart towards Kyle and the look in his eyes briefly reminds Kyle of a lost child about to cry. He can't help but think how adorable Stan looked.

"It's gone, Stan." He says, almost afraid that Stan would burst into tears. "You drank it all."

"But, but.." Stan pouts. "I-I want _more_!"

Kyle scowls, rolling his eyes. He's never realized how childish Stan was when battered. "No more, Stan. You're completely wasted, and _I-_" Kyle huffs, standing from his stool and leaving his half-empty mug on the bar. "-am going to take you home."

"I'm not done yet!'

"Right _now_, Stan."

– –

Stan giggles uncontrollably at nothing in particular, deafening Kyle's right ear as he shifts Stan's arm over his shoulders.

"Hey, Kyle." Stan calls, wobbling slightly.

Kyle sighs, annoyed. "Yes, Stan?"

He laughs. "Nothin'."

Kyle groans loudly, tempted to leave Stan here in the street and let him wander home alone. He'd think Stan would be more upset with the breakup, instead he seems to be enjoying thoroughly annoying the hell out of him.

"Hey, hey Kyle."

"..."

"Kyle. Yo Kyle. KYYYYYYYLE. KYLAROOOOO. KYLIEEE. KYLE!"

"WHAT? What do you want, Stan?" Kyle spits, seething.

"I w's just thinkin'.." Suddenly, Stan's drunken humor vanishes. His hazy eyes look up at the dotted sky as he assumes a contemplative expression. "You remember that time we were kids, d'you remember? And.. And you were in the hospital.. The doctor said you were gonna die.."

Slowly, Kyle's anger dissipates.

He remembers. He'd suffered from kidney failure and by the despicable will of the gods, Cartman had been the only compatible donor. And even though he'd been cured in the end, the news that Stan had done everything to get that kidney from Cartman was enough to let him die happy.

"I remember.." Kyle replies nostalgically, looking sideways at Stan, only to be met by soft, blue eyes.. Soft, blue eyes that are in such close proximity.. Kyle hears his heart pounding in his ears, as if whispering to lean over, just a bit.. Just the tiniest bit..

"Kyle?"

Kyle jerks slightly, snapping out of his stupor. He shakes his head. "Uh. Yeah, Stan?"

Stan pouts, maintaining a serious expression. "Don't die before me, alright?"

With that, Kyle laughs and the tension between them vanishes instantly. Stan was hella adorable when drunk. "Of course, dude. I would never die before you."

Stan smiles a cheeky smile, his arm still draped over Kyle's shoulders. "Good. Hey! Speakin' of kids.." Suddenly, Stan's tone and eyes turn excited. "What do you think ours'll look like?"

Kyle skids to a stop, pulling Stan back along with him, head spinning to face him. "WHAT?" Kyle gapes mindlessly, looking for that familiar hint of humor in Stan's eyes. Everything stops. His brain stops functioning coherently. He stops blinking. He stops moving. But despite the lack of movement, Kyle strains his ears.

Stan shrugs offhandedly, a lopsided grin on his face. "Well if we're gonna get married, we gotta have kids!" He shouts happily, his free arm flailing about.

"KIDS?" It became apparent to Kyle that Stan was spewing nonsensical crap, because he was drunk. He was drunk. Inebriated. Wasted. Completely and painfully unaware of his instinctive, gut-driven behavior.

For some reason, anguish washed over Kyle and he found himself frowning.

"Uh-huh! Man, I hope they get your eyes. I ever told you you have pretty eyes, Kyle?" Stan receives a blank, lethargic shake of the head in reply. "Well, ya do! They're real pretty.. Like, like you're hat!" Stan quickly grabs the ear flaps of Kyle's ushanka, successfully detaching the hat from Kyle's head, and wears it atop his own hat and then flashes Kyle the biggest grin he can muster.

Kyle, a bit irked that his most hated red hair is now exposed to the public's eyes, smiles amused at Stan's actions. "The hat suits you, dude."

Stan laughs that loud, genuine laugh Kyle loves. "Why thank you. Oh, and here!" Enthusiastically, Stan briefly removes the ushanka from his head, only to tear his own hat off himself and pull it down Kyle's mop of untamed locks.

The distinct smell of Stan Marsh wafts up Kyle's nostrils and he inhales as much of the scent as he can. He thinks he wants to keep Stan's hat.

Stan smiles brightly at him, plopping the ushanka down his own head. "See? Now _you're _Stan, and I'm Kyle!"

Suddenly, Kyle jumps at a pair of familiar arms enveloping his form and a warm cheek pressing against his. The strongest smell of Stan's shampoo has Kyle unconsciously leaning into the hug and hugging back.

"Mm," He hears Stan say. "This is nice."

Silently, Kyle agrees, risking a tighter squeeze. "Yeah. It feels right." For a moment, Kyle regrets having those words slip his tongue.

"It does feel right." Stan murmurs into Kyle's shoulder.

At that moment, as their hearts beat in synchronization, as their arms embrace each other with warmth, Kyle has forgotten that Stan's drunk. For once, he wants to pretend that Stan's his and that he is Stan's. He wants to lie to himself and give himself this brief moment of happiness.

He just wants to pretend. Just wants to tell him he loves him. Just wants to kiss him senseless and wake up in the morning with Stan beside him.

He just wants Stan. But he guesses that's just too much to ask. So he'll settle with just pretending.

**TBC.**

A/N: UGH. I hate this. I hate this SO BAD. I just posted it cause I was sick of having to read such crappy writing over and over, and I tried to rewrite this, I really did, but.. but.. but I'm too much of a fucking lazy-ass! (sob)


End file.
